


If Wishes Were Horses, Beggars Would Ride

by vocal_fries



Series: Subtext Becomes Text [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Consensual Violence, DS9 S1E16 “If Wishes Were Horses”, Flogging, M/M, Mild Blood, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Rimming, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocal_fries/pseuds/vocal_fries
Summary: The day Bashir's fantasies became real and embarrassed him. All's well that ends well. Set during DS9 S1E16, “If Wishes Were Horses.”





	If Wishes Were Horses, Beggars Would Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the hiatus since I posted my last fic -- finals were killer this semester. I'm planning to upload fics more often during the summer. Stay tuned!
> 
> Fair warning, this is more BDSM-y than my previous works in this series, and it's just as explicit as the others. They won't all be BDSM, so check back for sweet/nasty smut in the future if this isn't your thing.

Julian Bashir woke to hands caressing him. Still half-asleep, the young man smiled and leaned into the touch.  _ Did Garak stay over after all?  _ he wondered dreamily. Bashir felt his heart constrict at the idea of waking up next to the Cardassian. He opened his eyes and nearly leaped out of his skin.

“Jadzia!” he exclaimed, looking around wildly.  _ Garak isn’t here. Right? And how the hell did she get in here? _

Jadzia Dax locked a desirous look on Bashir. “Hello, Julian,” she purred.

Bashir tried to orient himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you. Waiting for you to wake up,” Jadzia said demurely.  _ What’s wrong with her voice? _

“I'm awake,” Bashir said, confused and uncomfortable, still trying to figure out how he fell asleep next to a Cardassian and woke up next to a Trill.

Dax was persistent. “Is something wrong?”

Bashir stalled, struggling to understand the situation he’d found himself in. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same question.” His words were almost swallowed by Jadzia’s sudden kiss. “It must be this Larosian virus that's been going around. How do you feel?” he asked, eyeing the woman pawing at him, a woman who had casually dismissed all his prior advances.

“Wonderful,” Jadzia whispered, sultry, and continued kissing Bashir.

The doctor felt Jadzia’s skin. “No fever. It must be me. It must be me,” he muttered, still stalling, although he felt sure by now that he and Dax were alone. “It must be me. Must be an allergic reaction. Perhaps- I must be hallucinating.”

Dax looked at him flirtatiously. “Why are you fighting this?”

“Why am I fighting this?” Bashir thought for a second.  _ Garak seems to have left, and he’s constantly reminding me that we’re not exclusive. _ “Why am I fighting this?” the doctor repeated, then made a decision. “I have no good answer to that question.”

Suddenly, he heard the voice of Major Kira Nerys over the intercom. “All senior officers report to Ops immediately.”

Bashir’s stomach clenched.  _ Goddamn it, I  _ knew  _ I shouldn’t trust her.  _ He pushed Dax away. “Okay, I get it. Very funny. Did O'Brien put you up to this?”

Dax looked incredulous. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Bashir sighed, irritated and insulted. “‘Senior officers report to Ops,’” he mimicked. “We all walk in; everybody has a good laugh at my expense.”

Now Jadzia looked insulted. “This is not a joke, Julian.”

The young man bristled. “We'll see.”

  
______________________

Bashir considered cancelling his lunch date with Garak after his humiliating morning in Ops. He was sure, though, that Garak would find out about the false Jadzia soon enough, and he preferred to deliver the story himself and begin whatever damage control was necessary as soon as possible. Besides, eating alone would be particularly excruciating today as the rumor mill was no doubt running wild. The appearance of normalcy seemed his wisest course of action.

Garak was already seated when the doctor entered the replimat. The young man flashed a quick smile, hoping he looked less self-conscious than he felt. After selecting a meal, Bashir joined the older man at their usual table.

“Hear any good gossip lately?” Garak asked, his face revealing a trace of mocking despite his congenial tone.  _ Which means it’s intentional, because Garak could look like carved stone if he wanted to. _

“Garak, let me explain,” Bashir cringed.

“Explain what?” Garak responded smoothly, eyes dancing on the younger man’s face.

Bashir felt himself flush deeply under the tailor’s knowing gaze. “I think you know what. I’m sorry. I know we’ve said we’re not exclusive, but-“

“But nothing, my dear,” Garak said dismissively. “We’ve said we’re not exclusive because we  _ aren’t.  _ You’ve been with a number of women since we struck up our arrangement, and your interest in Dax is certainly no secret.”

“But Garak, it must be-“ Bashir searched for words, “- _ awkward,  _ at least, to hear I somehow fantasized a fake Jadzia into existence hours after you left my quarters.” He searched the Cardassian’s face, finding only amusement.  _ But he must be upset. No one is that dispassionate. Right?  _ “I’m sorry that you found out through rumor. I value our — arrangement — and I don’t want you to think otherwise.”

“Julian.” Garak’s voice dripped with extravagant patience. “I feel utterly secure in the knowledge that you value our friendship. But I can’t possibly satisfy your every desire, and I feel secure in that as well.” His eyes glittered with a suppressed laugh. “I certainly can’t offer you the thrill of a submissive woman waking you from your sleep, worshipping you, offering you her soft, pliant body.”

“Garak!”

Garak smiled. “Jadzia, or at least this version of her, offers you something very different than I do. Our arrangement is such that you can feel free to pursue others, in practice or in your daydreams, and I’m certainly not threatened by your idle fantasies made flesh.”

_ He actually doesn’t look angry. Or jealous, or anything,  _ Bashir thought. He found himself wanting to see some kind of emotional response in Garak. Jealousy, anger, betrayal. Territoriality. Anything.

_ I almost wish he’d punish me,  _ he thought as Garak changed the subject, apparently done teasing the younger man. It was a silly thought, and a quietly rational voice in his mind told him so, but he still couldn’t seem to shake his disquiet at how impassively Garak had responded.  _ If I feel guilty and he doesn’t care, does that mean I’m more serious than he is? Have I misread how much more affectionate he’s become? We’re fucking, but are we  _ only _ fucking? _

Bashir fell quiet, participating in the conversation with only nods and occasional space-filler words of agreement. He felt stupid, wanting Garak to feel jealous when he’d been so worried earlier about that precise possibility.  _ But how can he not care at all? _

After several more minutes, Garak rose from the table, excusing himself. “Well, my dear, I must be getting back. A rather large commission was upgraded to a rush order this morning, and I have  _ no  _ interest in arguing with a Klingon bride.”

Bashir’s mood fell further. “Would you like to come over for a drink tonight? After you finish the rush order.”

He felt himself blush as Garak regarded him closely. They had never met in private two nights in a row, and they already had a date scheduled in three more days. The tailor finally answered, nodding politely. “Thank you for the invitation. If the hour is decent when I finish the commission, I’ll try to stop by. Otherwise, I’ll see you Thursday as planned.” He smiled, eyes teasing. “Besides, I certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt you and the lovely lieutenant Dax.”

 

______________________

At 1900 hours, Bashir’s door chimed.  _ I didn’t think he’d be done so early,  _ he thought. He crossed the room to answer the door, pleased Garak had decided to visit him after all.

When the door opened, Bashir felt a flash of fear. Garak looked furious, his eyes cold and deadly. The Cardassian pushed past him, stalking into the room.

“Garak, are-“

The older man cut him off. “Shut up, Julian,” he snarled, then looked around. “Is she here?”

“What? No!” Bashir responded, confused by Garak’s demeanor. “I was just reading a case by myse-“

“Good,” Garak snapped. “How  _ dare _ you. Of  _ course  _ I couldn’t appear upset with you in public just hours after your puerile fantasies about a woman who  _ doesn’t even want you _ became the hottest rumor on the station. No, I couldn’t say a thing while you sat there, smugly commanding an audience of gawking onlookers at tables all around us, making me swallow your trite apologies.” He stepped into the young man’s space, his body rigid, and Bashir steeled his spine to keep from backing up. “But we don’t have an audience now,” Garak hissed, blues eyes flashing.

Bashir’s mouth went dry. There was something menacing in Garak’s voice that he hadn’t heard before, something cold that he felt in his nerves.  _ But he wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t be this upset if he didn’t care. Right? _

Bashir looked imploringly into Garak’s hard, icy eyes. “I’m so, so sorry, Garak. I didn’t intend to upset you, and I really didn’t think-“

“I don’t suppose you did, did you? You made a fool of me once, parading your simpering fantasy around the station, and just assumed you could do it again, is that it?” Bashir felt blue eyes boring holes into his own. “No one makes a fool of me. And now I’ll hear just how sorry you are.”

Bashir felt a rush of blood stir his cock as he squirmed under the older man’s gaze, and he blushed at his response.  _ Really bad timing,  _ he thought to himself. “Garak, I’m so sorry. I- let me make it up to you,” he said, placing a hand tentatively on Garak’s chest. When the Cardassian made no move, Bashir took a small step forward. “Please. You’re important to me, and I respect you, and I value the time we spend together.” He examined the older man’s face, and he pressed his hand more firmly against Garak’s chest. “I’m so sorry. I want to make this okay.”

Bashir placed his other hand on Garak’s chest as well. As he slid his hands up to trace Garak’s shoulder ridges, the Cardassian suddenly grabbed both of his wrists. He held them firmly, almost painfully, and Bashir gasped. “No,” Garak growled. “You don’t get to touch me yet.” His eyes narrowed. “That was a poor excuse for an apology. You can’t fuck your way out of every difficulty, Julian. Being a wanton slut doesn’t make up for being a wanton slut.” He paused, eyes hard. “I ought to punish you.”

Bashir’s breath caught and he felt his cock fill as Garak’s words seared him. He was surprised by the suddenness and tone of the encounter, but he thrilled at the idea of the older man disciplining him. He had long been attracted to powerful older men, and the dangerous strength and icy calculation he sensed in Garak had been part of his initial attraction for the Cardassian.

Garak studied him, raising a brow ridge as his eyes settled on the erection pressing at the young man’s trousers. He released one of the doctor’s wrists and grabbed his cock, hard enough that Bashir’s eyes watered. Garak leaned in. “I see.”

“Computer, raise temperature 10 degrees C,” Garak commanded, releasing Bashir’s cock and wrist at the same time. As he walked to the replicator, Garak said simply, “Strip. Your safe word is Tholian.”

Bashir complied, shaking with a heady mix of fear and arousal. Garak rapidly entered a series of commands and supplementary codes. When he turned around, Bashir could see a length of chain and a pair of leather wrist cuffs. Mute, the young human held out his hands. Garak’s smile was predatory as he bound Bashir’s hands and attached the cuffs to the chain, which he looped over a load-bearing beam in the ceiling.

Bashir trembled in anticipation, fear, excitement. He gasped as he felt his arms hoisted over his head, leaving his body undefended. When nothing happened for a moment, he looked around in confusion. Garak had sat down at the table and was watching him, silent.

Bashir twisted on the chain, turning to face Garak. He waited, tried to control the shaking that spread through his entire body as his anticipation mounted. Seconds felt like hours under the scrutiny of that gaze, and after a few agonizing minutes of silence he gave up. “Garak?”

Garak looked almost pleased, but he made no move to get up. “Yes, Julian?”

Bashir feared his voice would shake, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I...I don’t know what you want to hear. But look at me. I’m sorry. And I want you. Look at how hard I’m shaking. Look at how my cock is leaking just from the touch of your eyes.” He swallowed, breathing audibly.

Garak remained seated, but his head tilted slightly, and Bashir thought he was beginning to understand the game.

“I want you,” he breathed. “Please.”

Garak watched, impassive but attentive.

Bashir hesitated, then pushed on. “Punish me. Please, Garak.”

Garak’s eyes shimmered with heat for just a moment, and the doctor felt encouraged.  _ I know what he wants. Funny, though, I think I’m more excited about it than he is. _

The young man let the chain support his weight as he rolled his hips against the air. “Punish me,” he whined. “I...I deserve to be punished.”

Garak finally rose from his seat, and he slowly approached Bashir, circling him.

“ _ Please, _ ” Bashir pleaded. Garak stopped in front of him, still silent as his blue eyes penetrated Bashir’s hazel ones. The human’s breathing was heavy, and he lost any ability to control his trembling. “ _ Please,  _ Garak, I need to be punished.”

“You do,” Garak agreed, and Bashir’s knees gave out at the sound of the older man’s voice. The chain held him, but he suspected Garak had seen him lose a couple inches of height.

“I really do,” Bashir breathed, his cock aching at the prospect of Garak touching him. “I need it. I’ve done wrong, but I want to be good for you, Garak.”

Garak disappeared behind him. Bashir gasped when he felt cool hands grip his hips. Sharp nails ran lightly across one hip, over his buttocks, and up his spine before trailing even more lightly back down. Gooseflesh spread over his entire body, electric, and he arched his back, sagging against the chain.

Suddenly, the flat of a hand made contact with his buttocks, and Bashir yelped in surprise at the stinging slap. Garak still held his opposite hip tightly, and Bashir tried to brace himself for a second blow. When it came, it was much harder than the first, and he cried out before he could stop himself. A third blow landed before the sting of the second had begun to subside, and Bashir felt heat blaze across the sensitized skin of his hips and ass.

He also felt his cock throb and leap with every blow, apparently immune to the pain that mounted with each impact. He was surprised when he heard his own voice begging, “Yes, fuck, spank me. I’ve been such a fucking slut. Spank me, teach me, make me be good for you.”

When Garak reached 20 blows, he stopped. Bashir was barely coherent, whining his need, arching his back to push his hips toward the source of that stinging discipline. “Good boy,” Garak purred next to Bashir’s ear as he traced light fingers over the human’s reddened, heated ass.

Bashir felt a glow of pleasure at the praise, but he felt a deep hunger that had been whetted more than sated. “Flog me,” he whispered. “Please, Garak.”

The Cardassian made a sound like a growl overtaking a chuckle, and Bashir’s spine tingled with anticipation. “Have you some other offense to atone for?” The older man stroked the younger like a cat, caressing him.

“I- Too many,” the doctor replied, almost more honest than he’d intended. “But I want you to hurt me. Don’t unchain me yet. Make me completely powerless.”

He heard a hitch in Garak’s breath. “Very well, Julian. Please remember your safe word,” he said evenly, then walked back to the replicator.

Bashir heard Garak rapidly entering commands into the console. “My safe word is Tholian,” he said, and in some coherent corner of his mind, Bashir felt relieved that he and Garak had talked about BDSM so often. Before today, it had been almost purely theoretical, and they had staged few scenes worth the name, but the ground rules they’d set weeks ago allowed him to relax into the unexpected thrill of Garak’s shift in behavior.

When Garak re-emerged into Bashir’s visual field, he was holding a wooden-handled flogger with long, wide, black leather strips. Bashir stared, entranced.

“Please,” he whispered.

  
______________________

Garak strode down the corridor holding a bottle of scotch whiskey. It wasn’t his favorite, but the doctor enjoyed it, and Garak suspected the young man had had a rather draining day of unspoken questions, snickers subsiding abruptly, and silent judgment. He felt he himself had teased his friend a bit more than Bashir had been ready for, and he hoped the scotch would smooth the doctor’s ruffled feathers.

As he approached Bashir’s quarters, Garak froze.  _ What was that? _ he wondered, listening closely. He didn’t hear anything for a moment, but suddenly, there it was again. A sharp crack, and then he heard Bashir’s unmistakable voice just filtering through the door.

“Garak! Garak, please!”

Garak’s insides went cold. Stopping in front of the door, he found it locked. He heard the sound again, followed by a strangled cry from Bashir. Without bothering to press the door chime, Garak quickly overrode the security code.

As the door opened, Garak entered Bashir’s quarters, bracing himself for the prospect of an altercation. The scene he encountered stopped him in his tracks as his mind reeled, trying to understand the tableau before him.

Bashir was naked, wrists bound and attached to a length of chain looped through the crosshatched ceiling grate. His arms were drawn high above his head. With the few inches of leeway the chain allowed, Bashir had let his upper body sag, while his arched back pushed his hips out behind him. His ass was thoroughly reddened, and half a dozen purple welts contrasted with the red. Behind him, holding a flogger, was — Garak.

Watching, Garak felt a rush of conflicting feelings. He was caught off guard for a number of reasons. The shock of seeing himself from a third party perspective was disorienting, certainly. But he also felt something like jealousy burn through his veins, and he pushed it down. Perhaps most urgently, though, the sudden flood of his own arousal surprised him. It took him a moment to realize that he’d spontaneously everted.

Garak tried to put his thoughts in order, and he studied the scene.  _ Is it a hologram?  _ Suddenly, the other Garak looked at him, and the human followed his gaze. When Bashir met his eyes, they rapidly cleared of their glassiness.

“Wha-? What? What the hell is-?” Bashir stuttered, face clouded with confusion. He froze, then stood up straight and gasped. Garak knew what the young man was thinking; they’d figured it out simultaneously.

They both looked at the other Garak. “Get  _ out _ of here!” Bashir shouted. The other Garak smiled politely, then vanished. The flogger dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

Garak looked back at Bashir. He breathed deeply, unable to stop himself from running his eyes over the human’s nude form. “Are you alright, Julian?”

Bashir didn't meet his eyes. His face was a deep red. “Yes Garak, I’m- I’m fine. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Was this...consensual?”

Bashir peeked at him tentatively. “Yes.” Garak felt the human’s eyes settle on the bulge in his pants. “Oh,” the doctor said softly, and then he met Garak’s eyes.

“I suppose it must be, if that other version of myself came from the same place as your extra Jadzia.” Garak paused, considering. “We’ve only spoken about this sort of thing in theoretical terms. Why haven’t you asked me to actually engage in these activities?”

“I...well, when we first talked about it, I wasn’t sure I trusted you well enough for flogging or whipping, honestly.” Bashir swallowed, paused, blushed. “I suppose I do now.”

“I suppose so,” Garak murmured, eyes still roaming the human’s smooth body, shining with sweat. “I don’t know what that other version of myself had in mind for this evening, but I have a few ideas.” His hands went to his belt, his gaze licking at the young man’s cock hungrily.

“Well, since he was actually me on some level, I suppose he planned to flog me bloody and then fuck me til I can’t stand up,” Bashir said, his embarrassment gone. He stretched and rolled his hips, erect cock bouncing with the motion. “Interested?”

Garak’s dilated pupils shown black in the shadowy light of Bashir’s quarters. “Oh, yes, my dear,” he hissed, removing his shirt and placing it next to his pants on the floor. Naked, Garak picked up the flogger and slowly approached the chained human.

Garak lightly teased the tassels of the flogger over Bashir’s chest and shoulders, circling the young man. He could hear Bashir breathing unsteadily. When he was behind the human, he leaned close to one ear. “Very interested,” he whispered. Bashir shivered, and goose flesh spread over his body.

  
______________________

“Julian.”

Garak’s voice broke through the pulsing electric haze Bashir found himself in. His body was limp, but he felt like a single nerve, throbbing hot and tingling and painfully aroused. He met Garak’s eyes, noticing the Cardassian was watching him closely. “Yes? Why did you stop?” He felt a cool hand touch his cheek lightly. Garak regarded him for another moment, then removed the wrist cuffs. Bashir collapsed and realized he was unable to stand. He felt an arm catch him, and another slid under his knees to lift him.  _ Is Garak really this strong? _

Bashir whined as Garak placed him on the bed. The silken coverlet felt cool against his overheated skin. “Garak, why did you-” he broke off with a moan as felt Garak’s tongue lave from cleft to testicles. “Oh my god, yes,” he gasped. The touch felt so impossibly gentle after the brutal flogging Garak had administered to his ass and thighs. Bashir felt tears come to his eyes, unbidden. “Yes,” he whispered, breathy.

Garak had positioned himself on the bed under Bashir’s thighs, and he wrapped his arms around the human’s legs to keep them apart as Bashir began to squirm. Bashir rolled his hips, feeling his cock harden anew. “Fuck me,” he whined. Garak ignored him, and Bashir felt the tongue continue to lick, to tease, to flutter. “ _ Please. _ Fuck me. I want you. Fuck me, Garak.” He felt something like a sob of frustration and a gasp of pleasure escape his own throat as Garak’s tongue circled his asshole and pushed inside.

“Please, Garak! Fuck me! Fuck me. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Pleasefuckmeplease-” he mewled, becoming incoherent. He felt tears on his face as precum dripped down the aching length of his cock. He thought he felt Garak’s lips twitch into a smile against his asshole, but when the older man’s face emerged into his field of vision, he looked serious. Hungry, but serious.

He felt Garak flip him over, face down, and pull his hips up so quickly he didn’t have time to loose the plea in his throat before he felt Garak’s silky-wet prUt pressing into him. Instead, the moan that escaped him in its place turned into a joyful cry. He tried to push back against the thick length of Garak’s prUt but realized his joints still felt as limp and loose as when Garak had removed him from the cuffs. Only the Cardassian’s hands grasping his hips held him up.

He purred rapturously as he felt the now-familiar prUt stretch him, gliding inside him wetly as Garak began to thrust. “Oh, fuck yes. Fill me up with your thick prUt,” he gasped. “Fuck me with your fat prUt until I scream, until I can’t scream anymore, until I can’t talk-”

An amused voice cut through the stream of babble. “You ask me for an impossibility, my dear.”

“-until I pass out, until I’m so full of your cum that I leak for days, unti-” he groaned as Garak’s pace increased. “Oh fuck ohfuckohfuc-”

He lost words as Garak thrust harder into him, and he yelped and grunted and screamed with every heavy impact of hard hip ridges against his reddened ass. Bashir’s brain buzzed. His cock felt like it would explode in a way that was new and incomprehensible and exciting. Garak’s prUt stroked inside him with silky friction, a sweet and familiar pleasure that contrasted sharply with the ruthless, alien pleasure of Garak’s hip ridges cutting into the raw welts on his ass.

Bashir felt his whole body go rigid as he came, hard and sudden and unexpected. He felt cum shooting from his untouched cock. He screamed, startled and euphoric, and he felt Garak’s hand reach and grasp his cock, stroking him through his orgasm. Bashir felt fresh tears stinging his eyes.

Garak let Bashir collapse prone, boneless, and the young human felt wet heat surge inside him when Garak came seconds later. Bashir smiled into the coverlet as tears coursed from his eyes. The room spun around him. He heard the Cardassian breathe above him for a moment before pulling out gently and lying next to him, an arm over Bashir’s back, face pressed against a slim shoulder.

They lay in silence a few long minutes. “My dear, are you placating my ego? Or did I truly fuck you speechless?”

Bashir laughed, and he felt fresh tears flow from his eyes. His laugh became an extended giggle. He felt Garak kiss the shoulder in front of his face.

“My dear.”

As Bashir’s giggles subsided, Garak moved his face to look at him. Bashir opened his eyes to meet the older man’s gaze. “Thank you,” he whispered, floating, hazy.

Garak looked calm, serious, unreadable as he wiped a tear from Bashir’s face with his thumb. “My dear Julian. Thank  _ you _ . Lie here. I’ll be right back.” Bashir’s eyes fluttered closed again, and he felt a hand stroke his hair.

When he opened his eyes again, Garak was seated next to him on the bed with a hand towel, sanitary wipes, and a dermal regenerator. He was vaguely aware of Garak lifting his hips again, gently cleaning him. He winced as cool sanitary cloths pressed lightly against the bleeding welts on his ass and thighs. Bashir felt Garak’s lips press light kisses against his shoulder blade. He closed his eyes, humming contentedly.

He awoke again when he heard Garak activate the dermal regenerator. He forced himself to form words, murmuring against the pillow he didn’t remember being under his face. “Can you leave one? Or part of one? I want to be able to feel it.”

“Of course, my dear,” Garak replied. Bashir felt lips on his shoulder again, through a blanket. He didn’t remember that, either.

Bashir dozed again, waking up when he felt Garak’s cool fingers sweep lightly across the repaired skin of his ass and thighs. Bashir felt a small, slight sting on the left side. He smiled.

He felt Garak lie down next to him again, rearranging the blanket to cover them both. He felt the Cardassian draw him close, stroking his hair. Cool lips kissed the eyelid not pressed into the pillow under his head. Bashir drifted.

Gradually, he became more aware of his surroundings. The blanket. Garak’s fingers in his hair. Their thighs twined together. The even sound of the older man’s breathing. Bashir opened his eyes. Garak was gazing into the middle distance, but he looked at the younger man when he felt him stir.

“Garak,” Bashir said, voice soft.

“Hello, my dear,” Garak said quietly. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“Tea would be nice, actually.”

Garak went to the replicator, ordered a Tarkalean tea, and returned to the bed. He sat against the headboard. “You can’t drink this lying down,” he said gently.

Bashir propped himself on one elbow, took the tea from the older man, and drank. He nearly drained the cup, realizing suddenly how thirsty he’d been.  _ All that begging, I suppose _ , he thought, smiling privately. He set the tea cup on the bedside table and lay back down, resting his head on Garak’s lap.

He looked up at the Cardassian, who was regarding him with those searing blue eyes. The expression on Garak’s face looked oddly like reverence. Garak’s hand returned to Bashir’s hair, fingers tracing gentle circles against his scalp. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“Quite content,” Bashir murmured, smiling up at Garak. “Like the cat that got the cream.”

“What cat?”

Bashir smiled, stretching lazily. “Nevermind. I’m not sure the idiom translates. But I feel quite relaxed and supremely satisfied.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I rather enjoyed myself, as well.”

Bashir was surprised. Garak always  _ seemed _ to derive a good deal of pleasure from their sexual relationship, but he rarely deigned to say so in such plain language.

“So, my dear,” Garak continued, “you clearly desired this type of encounter strongly enough to dream up a version of me that did as well. In case there’s any lingering doubt, please let me be clear that the  _ real _ version of me is quite amenable to negotiating similar, ah,  _ scenes _ in the future.” Garak held Bashir’s eyes, and the young man felt a cool, strong hand glide gently over his chest and stomach through the blanket. “You were magnificently beautiful tonight.”

Bashir felt his face flush. “I-- thank you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I’d like that, too.” Garak gave a Cardassian nod of agreement. “Can you stay a little longer?” Bashir twined his fingers with the hand on his chest.

“Of course, my dear.”


End file.
